| The Swing by Jacklynn MacKenzie |
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It blows to and fro in the cold Winter breeze, No children do I see out under the tree, climbing up to sit in its' contoured seat, to cling tightly to its thick rope with their tiny hands. It just hangs there lonesomely, As if saying - "Let me swing you again, Let me swing you high, Almost reaching to the sky. Come, I will fill you with giggles of joy - Come, little girl; come little boy." But Winter is here, The swing is heavy with ice and snow, As it blows to and fro beneath the barren branches of the tree which months before, overflowed with lush green leaves. But the leaves have all fallen, have drifted away in the Autumn winds, who knows where; and like a skeleton, the tree stands bereft of its' very soul. Just as the swing, which hangs so lonesomely. It makes me sad to gaze at it through my window each day, as it seems to beacon the children to play. It reminds me of an old lady, a grandmother, who waits for her grandchildren who do not come. But alas, Spring is here, new buds appear, Sun melts the ice from the swing, the snow has gone. The soft spring breeze blows gently, as the swing moves slowly back and forth, and soon a canopy of green foliage will appear, soon Summer will be here! Soon the childrens' voices will be heard, as they run down the hill towards their swing, asking, "Mommy, Daddy, will you push me high into the sky?" "Higher, higher I want to touch the clouds, Higher, higher, the children call out loud!" The children are so happy to take turns on their swing each day through Spring, Summer and Fall, Till winter winds begin to call. And I watch them from my window, wishing that Summer, and flowers, warm weather, and green leaves, and chirping birds, and butterflies and blue skies could stay forever. But soon the swing will be alone again, alone and waiting ---- waiting to delight the children as nothing else can, in these childhood years. |
| For Katie and Riley |
| © 2004 Jacklynn MacKenzie |
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